Maybe there is no wrong choice, just a choice. Maybe I can choose, and choose again. Maybe I can refrain from blaming myself, because my life is short, and I want to be happy.
Remember - Those who feel they are worthy of love, feel loved.
Why is it that even if fiction can exist where humans control every aspect of their body and psyche, unexpected things keep happening?
There is no dead-end to choice, to knowledge. A dead-end appears when you choose to have one, when you have decided on it, when you know it.
I die when I decide I've had enough of life. My senses control my reality. I don't see myself growing old -